Rescue the Dragonborn
by Wanderingidealism
Summary: This fic is Unfinished; I Haven't even spell checked it yet. I am posting it for the sake of a friend who wants to read it, but I do not have his email. This is a Story about my DB Skadi Thrymdottir, a Nord, who is captured and brutally tortured by the Thalmor, while trying to flirt with Farkas. There is rage hate for Ulfric Stormcloak. It's really OOC and pretty much AU.


_Totally au story. I know the Aldmari Dominion would never work with the Silver Hand… but I also don't know for certain how exactly the Dominion acts, save that they're all a bunch of racist bigots who need to lay down and die. Pardon my rage. Look up fic, Caius Iondius by benjy2000 on ffnet_

Months of flirting with no reward had gone by, and still there was no reaction from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Wolfy.

That is to say, Farkas, her fellow companion, and shield-brother, was either ignoring her attempts, or she was just terrible at subtle hints. Even Vilkas was rolling his eyes at Skadi's actions.

Hell, She had even become the Harbinger of the Companions! That was really hard! She barely had time enough to flirt as it was, let alone give guidance to a bunch of men and women when they sought it. There was a world-eating dragon out there after all, and you know, a massive civil war.

Which she still needed to make a truce between. Damnit, looks like Friddas was booked then.

Skadi had managed to fail every attempt to woo Farkas, even the suggestions of his own brother had been a bust. AT this point, the whelps of the companions were making bets to see how long she would be single. Even Aela, a fiercely loyal friend, made jokes at her Harbinger's expense.

Skaid Thrymdottir, the loveless. Skadi Thrymdottir, the lonely, Skadi Thrymdottir, the "so-intimidating-a-six-five-male-nord-wouldn't-app roach-her"; those were all the epithets she expected to follow her down in every poem written about her glories. Perhaps he was so intimidated by the glory she had earned, he couldn't approach her?

That just made her sad; she enjoyed talking with the man. For all that everyone believed him dumb, Farkas was in fact a good companion to talk to. He could fill long, restless nights of travel with the funniest tales, and was always interested in what she had to say. Skadi thought he shared her feelings, so why didn't he just accept her proposal?!

For the love of the nine, she was wearing _hide armor, _**in sub-zero temperatures! **Even with Frost-resistance in her blood it was fucking cold!

_I'll woo him yet, _she seethed, _even if proving my valor, openly flirting, wearing seductive armor, and outright begging hasn't seemed to work! _She charged up the mountain with zeal, chasing her quarry. She caught the snow cat quickly, watching it burn in the fire of Meridia, as she sheathed Dawn Breaker.

Though, if wearing the amulet of Mara, half –clothed, in the middle of a blizzard wasn't seductive enough, then what in the Name of Talos was?!

_Farkas's Point of view_

She charged ahead again, recklessly aggressive, as usual. She seemed to enjoy making a game of this, leading him into adventure to fight at her side, and then charging forward recklessly into battle, before he could even reach her.

What was she trying to prove? Assert her dominance as Harbinger? She knew more than anyone the Harbinger didn't dominate, but guided. Assert her dominance as a female? She had already earned Aela's respect, even the respect of his own brother, which was near impossible. Maybe she was trying to impress him?

He had already been impressed with her, from the moment she walked into Jorrvaskr, head high, and grin that challenged the world. Farkas was impressed with her the first time he had seen her take down a drunken man in the Banded Mare, who was twice her size and had nearly crushed her rib cage attempting to cop a feel.

Farkas had been infatuated with her, as they cleared Dustman's Cairne, and she showed no fear of him, even when he was forced to transform.

Granted, Skadi Thrymdottir generally showed no fear, only ferocity and strength in battle, and compassion and sympathy afterwards. She hated no one but this war, and those who propagated it.

Oh, and the Thalmer. He can no longer count the times he had to hold back the fierce warrior woman when they encountered Thalmer on their travels. He disliked their attitudes as much as every self-respecting denizen, but Skadi seemed to harbour an intense hatred for their lot. He'd ask why, but he did not feel it was his place.

Other than that, Skadi was tolerant of all the races of the Empire, as long as they treated her with respect as well. She genuinely wanted to help people, for the sake of bettering their lives.

Farkas had asked her why, and she told him it was because it was her duty. They never breached the subject again.

Yet, for all her compassion, for all her honor, she loved to tease. He had noticed how she singled him out for missions and adventures, when there were plenty of available companions laying around Jorrvaskr, eager for Glory. He had noticed her wear the Amulet of Mara around her neck, the blue stones complimenting the moonstones on the circlet around her head, contrasting the crimson war paint that trailed down her neck, and framed her face so nicely.

The wolf inside him growled with desire. He suppressed it forcefully; now was not the time.

She was teasing him again, wearing the thin, revealing hide armor. It fit her tiny, compact frame well. He could feel the desire building inside of him every time she swung Dawnbreaker, and every backslash she performed with Ghostblade caused the wolf within him to growl possessively. Her scent, mixed with that of wolf blood was overpowering. She wore the Amulet of Mara proudly, almost seductively, as if to remind him she was available.

He loved every bit of her, from the quirky smile that lit her face when they raided old tombs, to the fact that she could drink half of Jorrvaskr under the table and still be ready for battle if needed. Her strength at his side was all he wanted in his life. HE wanted nothing more than to pin her to the walls of Whiterun and kiss her breathless in broad daylight, or take her under the moonlight. He knew she felt the same way, but he still did not dare approach her.

He Loved her, he knew that; but she deserved so much more than he could give. He wasn't very smart, where she was brilliant; he was silent when she always knew what needed to be said; he was a fighter where she played diplomat. His heart's desire battled dragons head on, fought forces he could not comprehend, and battled with weapons he could barely understand, and he just followed her into battle, praying she wouldn't get hurt, and struggling to control his wolf. She was so great; how could she feel any sort of desire towards someone as unworthy as him?

"Farkas! Pay attention!" She shouted, urgently, and he snapped back into reality just as the giant's club hit him through a couple of trees. HE heard her cry out in rage, and release a shout.

"FUS-RO-DAH!" Skadi cried in fury, and the giant fell, allowing her to give a final slash to his chest, ending his life. She turned and rushed toward the Fallen Companion, after making sure the enemies around her were dead.

"Farkas! Farkas, are you okay?! Please don't be dead!" She cried, tearing through her bag for a potion of healing. She had one, precious vial left.

Farkas was staring blankly at nothing in particular, resting at the roots of a fallen tree. Even though he was clad in heavy armor, Skadi could tell he had some damage to his ribs. He was clearly dazed and confused.

"Shit," She swore, charging up a healing spell. She set up a makeshift tent from the bear pelt she had in her pack, and set to work stripping Farkas of his armor. She managed to get the potion down his throat, and prop him up enough that she could use magic to heal him. He watched her dully, still shaking off the Giant's attack.

"come on Farkas, you need to let me know you're okay," She murmured , her face golden in the light of the healing spell. Farkas stared longingly at her. She had never looked so pretty… he wished he was smart, Like Vilkas. He'd be able to find the words he wanted to say, words enough to convey his feelings for her. He tried to say something to ease the tension in her face, but the words came out garbled and slurred. She placed a gentle finger on his lips and hushed him, continuing her mending. So he watched her silently, ignoring his pain to watch her worry over him.

He loved her, he knew that, but he knew she didn't deserve him.

He passed out shortly after she lifted her hands, the world blackening around him, and the Amulet of Mara dangling from her pale neck was the last thing to fade from his vision.

Skadi sat on guard the entire night. It was just as she feared; Farkas had some ribs that needed mending. Luckily, they were near an abandoned bandits camp (read; cleared out bandits' camp, courtesy of Dawnbreaker) and Skadi was able to make a bier of sticks and the cave bear pelt to drag Farkas behind her. The going was slow, but she was able to carry him to somewhere relatively warm. The fire was burning bright the entire night, and any potential predator kept its distance, thank the Nine.

She glanced back at the tent she had placed Farkas in for the night. He was still asleep, having passed out hours earlier, after she had healed most of his wounds. He still had some recovery to go, but she didn't have the magika to keep up the spell. She would try again in the morning, when she was sure no potential threats lay waiting in the night. He had developed a fever- seemingly impossible, because the beastblood offered immunity to disease- but present nonetheless, and steadily rising. She needed to gather plants to help him, or to hurry to the nearest house and beg for assistance, but she could not leave Farkas alone where he could be killed.

Why hadn't she paid more attention to him during the fight? She knew he could handle himself normally, but there had been more than one threat surrounding them at the time. A giant, a troll, and the two mammoths all attacking at once had been overwhelming; it's a miracle neither of them had died. Skadi wished she could somehow get word to the Companions about their predicament, and maybe get some aid, but it wasn't possible; no courier would dare travel this path at night, and she had seen no sign of any falcons in the sky.

All was quiet in the forest. Not even a hoot from an owl, nor the screech of a bat. She jumped at every howl the wind made, thinking it was the sound of a dragon swooping down for the kill.

Suddenly, from nowhere, Skadi heard voices. Haughty, contempt-laced voices, drawing nearer to the camp. The scent of golden armor and elfin incense filled her senses, making her nauseous and on high alert. She doused the flames, and quietly, murmuring an apology to Farkas, covered the tent he lay in with pine boughs. He let out a soft groan as she placed a small kiss on his forehead, and tucked a small slip of paper into his hand. She placed herself before the camp defensively, eyes scanning the surrounding woods for any movement. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, nets flew all around her, trapping her beneath them. Instantly her skin began to crawl, burning where the net met exposed flesh.

_Silver nets?! But how could they have known?! _Skadi thought, desperately clawing at the nets, attempting to escape. The more she clawed, the more they burned, until her skin was raw and bleeding, staining the snow red.

"be still Dovakiihm; you are surrounded and defenseless. You have no means of escape," Rang the conceited voice of a Thalmor mage, a smug look on his pointed face. Skadi snarled, spitting at his feet. Looking around the camp, she found at least fifteen thalmor, a mixture of warriors and mages. She was outnumbered and outmatched, even with the power of the Thu'um on her side.

From his spot hidden in the pines, Farkas watched feverishly as the Thalmor subdued _his _Harbinger. HE watched her struggle against their nets, and spit out threatening words, only to get beaten down again horribly. He growled, his fever clogging his better judgment, and began to lose control.

_They threaten what's mine! Mine! _The wolf snarled possessively, though it knew the Harbinger needed little protection under normal circumstances.

Exhausted, worried, and furious, Farkas allowed the wolf to take control. He transformed with a howl of rage, and lunged at the nearest Thalmor, ignoring the aches in his ribcage. Skadi watched as the wolf fought violently, struggling to reach her, but even his strength was not enough to battle all the elves at once. He was subdued by a large, deep cut to his side from a silver bladed Thalmor, and another deep cut to his chest. The wolf howled in agony at the touch of silver, before running into the woods in retreat.

"leave him; he'll die of his wounds soon enough," Growled one elf, as they pulled the mortified Dragon Born out from under the nets, bound her hands in silver, and gagged her mouth to prevent a Thu'um from escaping. She struggled, attempting to chase her partner into the forest, fearing the worst, but to no avail.

"Skadi Thrymdottir! You are hereby under arrest for the illegal worship of Talos! Furthermore, you have been accused of crimes against the empire, for which you are to be held as traitor. On top of this, you are accused of willingly participating in a Lycanthropic ceremony, and are henceforth to be held prisoner until further notice, by the command of the general of the Aldmari Dominion!" The snobby elf leading the pack stated, nodding to his men before turning on his heel. They marched the still struggling Nord to a heavily armored carriage, locking her legs into restraints, and fitting her silver bindings into chains. The door slammed shut on the mortified Skadi, blocking out the crimson-stained snow of the formerly silent campsite.

For the first time in ages, Skadi Thrymdottir felt afraid, not for herself and her well being, but for the well being of the severely wounded companion, now wandering feverishly alone.

Farkas woke up in the tattered remains of the pants he wore under his armor. He was in pain just about everywhere, and could not remember why. He felt the wounds to his chest and side before he saw them, crying out in agony before realizing how deep they were. He was clutching a note in his hands, as if his life depended on it.

He realized it did a moment later when he discovered that he could no longer smell his Harbinger's scent nearby. He sat up instantly, using a nearby tree for assistance. He opened the note, and in his dizzy haze, he read his Harbinger's words.

_Farkas,_

_I won't be here when you wake. Sorry, I couldn't handle them all on my own. You'll need to return to Jorrvaskr quickly, and seek out Lydia and the other Companions. The Thalmor have me most likely…_

_ Don't search for me if it means putting yourself, the Companions, Whiterun,and the Jarl in danger; my life isn't worth it, Dovakhiin or not._

_ Give the guild my message as soon as possible,_

_ Skadi._

Farkas forced himself to stand, blinking tears of sorrow and rage out of his eyes. How could she have been captured?! Damn the Thalmor! Damn them All!

He took a step forward and almost passed out.

He couldn't go after the bastards on his own; he'd need help.

He turned towards the direction Whiterun lay in, and began to make his slow trek home.

_Four days later…._

In Jorrvaskr, Vilkas, Farkas's twin, watched as Torvar successfully managed to get both Ria and Njada to hate him within five seconds. He sighed, shaking his head.

Tilma stood nearby, her face sorrowful, observing the lad she had watched grow up. She could tell when he wasn't all together, and when his mind was troubled. Nothing escaped her elderly eyes.

"Vilkas, what's wrong?" She asked, placing a tankard of mead before him.

"Does nothing escape your gaze, Tilma?" The boy, now a man, sighed again, downing the tankard in a few gulps.

"Not much escapes my gaze, child, you should know this, You were raised under my watchful gaze, alongside your brother," Tilma said, observing the involuntary wince as the boy's twin was mentioned, "ah, so you're worried about our dear Farkas and the Harbinger then?"

"Aye, Tilma; They should have been back _days _ago! Something must have happened to them on the road!" Vilkas said, his expression stony.

"Come now Vilkas; Farkas loves her too much to let any harm befall Skadi, and Skadi loves him too much to let any harm come to him. They're going to be all right," Tilma soothed, patting Vilkas's shoulder gently.

"But Tilma, I've been having worse dreams than usual! Dreams where both my brother and the Harbinger are found drenched in blood. What if they're premonitions?"

"I'm sure they're fine, Vilkas," Aela said, joining in on the conversation.

"She'll be fein Vilkas," Torvar slurred, sloshing mead down his front, "She's a tough one, our Harbinger."

"and Farkas can take care of himself," Ria added, clapping the tall Nord on the back.

"I hope you're right," Vilkas muttered, nervously, "I just can't stop dreaming about one of them walking into Jorrvaskr coated in blood!"

As soon as the words left his lips, the doors to the mead hall swung open, lightning flashing across the night sky, silhouetting the figure entering. Rain water dripped down his clothes, but even that didn't stop the scent of blood from filling the room. The figure was half-clothed, ragged, and coated in layers of dirt and blood.

Vilkas froze, sickened, before Tilma hurried to the figure's side in shock.

"B-brother," Farkas panted, before coughing up blood and pivoting forward in a dead faint.

Who had done this to his brother? And where was the Harbinger? For now, Vilkas ignored those thoughts as he barked out orders to the shocked Companions around him. Njada rushed to the temple of Kynareth to get a healer and a stretcher, while Tilma and Aela started ripping up any nearby cloth to halt the bleeding.

"V-Vilkas," Farkas begged from his spot on the floor, blood oozing from his lips, "Vilkas, she's in trouble."

"Who did this to you, Farkas? What happened?" Vilkas asked, gripping his twin's hand in an attempt to keep him conscious.

"Th-Thalmor. They attacked from nowhere, un-unprovoked. Transformed when they took… Vilkas, they took her!" Farkas muttered deliriously, his body lurching upwards in an attempt to stand. Aela and Tilma held him down, while Torvar began to clean out his wounds with some alto wine.

"Thalmor- but why?" Vilkas wondered, as his twin thrust a crumpled, blood-stained letter into his hands.

"They took… they got Skadi!" farkas coughed, before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he lost consciousness.

"Farkas!" Vilkas cried, trying to rouse his twin, to no avail. The healer burst through the door, pushing them out of the way and demanding space.

It was hours before she had finished. Athis and Vilkas were charged with carrying Farkas to his room, where he lay in a dead sleep. The healer said he was lucky to even be alive; he had broken ribs, coupled with two, deep wounds. The blood loss alone would have killed a normal man. The healer said that despite the wounds being mostly healed, save for scarring, he was still at risk of infection or the wounds reopening, and should remain in bed for a few days. She also said it was likely he would be unconscious for a few days, out of sheer exhaustion.

Aela recognized the scent coming from the wounds as the scent silver weapons leave when they cleave werewolves to bits. Someone, probably the Thalmor, knew the secret of the Circle, and that these weapons would have lingering effects on the werewolves. Vilkas shuddered to think of the tortures their Harbinger was undergoing, if what Farkas said was true.

Vilkas sat by his brother's side, face tight with worry.

Where was the Harbinger? Why had the Thalmor attacked? How had they known the secret of the Inner Circle? All these questions plagued Vilkas, as he watched his brother's restless sleep.

The biggest question in his mind however, was the most troubling.

_What do we do now? _He thought, changing the wet cloth on his brother's forehead, and settling once more into a contemplative position.

He didn't know, and that's what troubled him the most.

Skadi was thrown into a dank cell in the secret prison. She had been stripped of all armor and items, left only in a pair of ragged clothes, that hardly provided warmth. Her mouth was left gagged, and her hands bound with silver, causing an itching burn to travel up her arms, as if the flesh there was peeling away layer by layer.

Damn the Thamor; how had they found out about her secret?! She had not transformed once, save for that first mission with Aela, when they found Skjor dead at the feet of the Silver Hand. It was the most carefully guarded secret in all of Skyrim, and yet these elves had weasled it out of someone, and used the information to their advantage.

She curled up in a corner of her cell, seething. Farkas had been killed- butchered- and she had been unable to stop it, trapped under layers of Silver netting, handcrafted to trap her, and specifically her. She couldn't even become Ethereal; her Thu'um was blocked, as was Ulfric Stormcloak's during that fateful day in Helgen.

She steeled herself, refusing to cry. Farkas may well have been killed, but she could not let that break her. She must trust that the Companions had found him and the note by now, and knew of their fate. She trusted her shield- siblings to take appropriate action.

She trusted that Farkas would be waiting for her, if not in Sovrngard, then in Hircine's Hunt Lands, with the same, happy look plastered on his face.

She leaned back against the cell's wall, regretting not just outright telling him her feelings, regardless of the outcome. Her one fear was that he would reject her, and now it was too late for even that. She had no foolish hope he might survive; he was dead and she was alone, now and forever.

The door to her cell opened and a group of interrogators stepped in, smugly grinning as they looked her up and down. She sneered at them, imagining how they'd look if Dawnbreaker was in her hands. How sweetly disgusting her revenge would be.

"SO this is the fabled Dovakhiin," leered one elf, his eyes scanning her up and down, as if in disappointment, "She doesn't seem like much."

"Yes, but she is necessary to get the cooperation of the natives," Supplied another, who grabbed her face and turned her head from side to side, examining her closely, "They revere her as a savior, and will listen to her when she speaks."

"That's what you think, elf" Skadi snarled, gag obscuring her words, "I will not bow to the likes of you! I will not be used to garner complacency and forced loyalty from my people! I swear this by the God Talos!"

That earned her a whiplash- inducing punch to the jaw. She gritted her teeth and bared it, merely glaring at the elves in response.

"You say you'll resist now, but you'll change your mind soon enough. We will break you, Dovakhiin, until there's little left of you but an empty, defeated husk," Sneered the first elf, turning to the others, "Bring in the equipment!"

Skadi's glare deepened when they rolled in a cart bearing white-hot branding irons and swords, silver-tipped whips, and a large variety of other torture weapons. Steeling herself for pain, Skadi thought only of the man they had butchered, and her resilience increased.

She waited, unafraid, rage fueling her.

They tortured her for hours, and never gained one scream, only insults and threats.

She was a force to be reckoned with, and one they may not be prepared for.

It was nearly a week before Farkas woke, shooting up from his slumber and nearly tearing open a wound. Vilkas was there to calm him down, soothing his brother with words.

"Farkas, what happened to you?" He asked, pulling out the crumpled note, having read through it hundreds of times.

Farkas looks at him, ashamedly. The cuts on his face had healed well, only light scarring remained, but he was still pale. He looked younger, less fierce without his war paint, almost like a child, waking from a nightmare.

Farkas took a sip of water, clearing his parched throat, and gazing sadly at his twin.

"I failed her Vilkas; I couldn't save her," He said, voice hardly above a whisper. Vilkas gripped his twin's hand.

"But what happened, Farkas? What prompted Thamor to attack?" He questioned, noting the pain in his brother's eyes.

"I'm not… not sure. We were fighting the giant targeted, as per our mission, when a few other beasts attacked us. I was hit pretty bad by the giant's club, and Skadi said some of my ribs were broken. From there I kept fazing in and out of consciousness, only half-seeing what was going on. I remember her dragging me to one of the camps she cleared out on her last mission, and then falling asleep… It must have been hours later when I woke up to see her struggling against the nets. She had covered me with pine boughs, probably to keep me hidden. I… I saw her struggling to escape, and then I saw the Thalmor beating her and I lost it… Vilkas I lost control. I transformed… I can't remember any of what happened after that, save that I woke up with the note in my hands, coated in my own blood and hardly able to move. I crawled my way back to Whiterun. I passed out frequently, and lost track of days… It got cold, and started to rain, then I woke up here," Farkas said, struggling to remember as much as he could. Vilkas had never seen his brother look so defeated and lost. Farkas was broken; he had failed to defend his Harbinger and the person he loved, and was forced to deliver her parting message to his shield-siblings. Vilkas wished he could take his brother's pain unto himself, wished to ease the strife his twin must feel. Why, oh Gods, Why didn't he go after the two, when the premonitions started?

"Farkas, we're trying to find a way to save her, but it's difficult," Vilkas said, his hand tightening around his brother's, "The Thalmor are protected by law, despite what illegal things they do. We know Skadi is a worshipper of the banned Talos, and as such her imprisonment is considered legal. We're working on persuading Jarl Balgruff to allow us to sneak into the base… Lydia has already agreed to help us. You need to have hope, brother, even just a little," Vilkas said, releasing his twin's hand and standing up, "We'll get her back, Farkas, don't worry."

"Why didn't I just tell her, Vilkas? Why couldn't I just say it? She'll be dead now, and I won't be able to tell her anything," Farkas despaired, his voice cracking with the strain of not crying. Vilkas felt a pang of sorrow at his brother's pain. He grabbed Farkas's hand once more.

"I swear to you, Farkas, that we will find Skadi Thrymdottir, one way or another, and you'll be able to tell her all the things you've wished to say these past months. You have my word as a Companion, and as your brother," He swore, gripping Farkas's hand tightly, in promise.

Farkas nodded his acceptance, before he slowly fell back into a restless sleep, his mind plagued by nightmares and dark thoughts. Vilkas stood up again, switching shifts with Tilma, who knitted beside Farkas's bed, a sad expression on her wrinkled face.

Vilkas hurried to back bedroom, Skadi's honorary room, and Kodlak's old dwellings, where the rest of the companions, even the whelps, were gathered, each occupied with their own thoughts.

"He has confirmed it, The Thalmor have her," he said, and Aela swore.

"What can we do about it? We can't attack the Thalmor without risking the wrath of the Empire!" Athis said, his dark gaze meeting Vilkas's.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but when she swore loyalty to us, we swore loyalty to her. Farkas would back her in battle, against all foes, and so shall I," Vilkas said, "Even if it means making an enemy of the most deadly organization in Skyrim."

"I am with Vilkas on this; She is not only our Harbinger, but our shield- sister, and we owe it to her to come to her aid when she needs it most," Aela said, "I may not have backed her in Markarth against the Foresworn Conspiracy, and that guilt will plague me forever more. I will not let her down this time, when her very freedom of choice is on the line."

"Aye, I am for saving her too," pledged Eorland, "I will provide you all with weapons to match the elves, provided you use caution against their silver weapons. Farkas, the greatest fighter of any of you, was nearly killed by them."

"You are all forgetting something important," Athis said, worriedly, "While Skadi may be Dragon Born, the Aldmari Dominion want nothing more than the excuse to attack in full. Attacking any base of theirs, for any reason, will break your White- Gold Concordant, jeopardize Whiterun's neutrality, and make the Companions enemies to the empire. Rescuing our Harbinger will require tact, diplomacy, skill, and possibly more sneak than we can manage. If one thing goes wrong, if one Thalmor catches any of us, we will bring their entire army down upon us," He said, condescendingly.

"What do you suggest we do, whelp?" Snarled Vilkas, stepping forward menacingly.

"We need the backing of either Jarl Baalgruff, or more men. We may need to seek help from the Stormcloaks, or the Thieves Guild. I know it is not our typical way of doing things, but if we are not cautious about this matter, we will be biting off more than we can chew," Athis said, shrugging.

"He's right, Vilkas; we don't have enough manpower to take on a base without being caught or killed. Our actions could very well bring about another Great War, on top of this damned Civil War," Ria added.

"I think we should at least consider getting aid from anyone we can, whether this means busting open our coffers to bribe and pay off mercenaries, or even resorting to less-than-legal means of entry. We can still maintain Neutrality if we're careful," Aela said, "We can offer Ulfric Stormcloak something to gain his help, for at least a little while."

"Perhaps the lure of liberating an entire group of Nord Prisoners from the clutches of the Thalmor is enough to do so," Vilkas mused, thinking aloud, "He hates the Thalmor, enough that he may be willing to assist us. We could go forth under the guise of Stormcloaks and free our Harbinger."

"Good plan, but we still need to actually make contact with him," Njada added, stepping forward.

"Isn't there a guy in Riverwood who's with the Stormcloaks?" Ria said aloud, "I think his name was… Ralof? Skadi mentioned him once, when she was talking about the dragon in Helgen. We could try him."

"Excellent, so you, Torvar, and Aela go seek the aid of Ulfric Stormcloak. Myself and Athis will head to Riften and Dawnstar to see if anyone is willing to lend their blade. Skadi has helped many people around Skyrim; perhaps it's time they return the favor," Vilkas said, ending the debate.

"We'll need to be cautious; don't draw attention to yourselves, don't mention the quest, simply imply in passing we are seeking aid. The only place safe enough to discuss attacking Thalmor openly is nowhere; even the Court of Windhelm has spies. Be cautious, be brave, and don't be an idiot. Discuss things in secret, behind closed doors, with as much security as possible. Perhaps we may even need to seek the aid of the Blades…" Aela said, waving everyone out with their orders.

"What of Farkas, Shield-sister? Who will guard him?" Njada asked, and Eorland answered for Aela.

"Myself and Tilma, and Vignar Grey- Mane shall watch the pup. I'll be forging your weapons and armor, and none can escape the fierce gaze of Tilma. He will recover soon enough. Then we can focus on finally getting him and our Harbinger together," he said with a smirk, waving the group off.

The companions separated, grabbing their favored weapons and armor, before sneaking out of Whiterun in the pitch black of night.

Vilkas stopped by Breezehome, and recruited Lydia for this mission. She readily agreed to save her Thane, no matter what the cost.

Thus did they begin their journey, the watchful gaze of the Jarl of Dragonsreach observing them from the background. They had his support, even if they did not know it. The Dragon Born was his Thane after all, and it was his duty to protect her as she did him.

Skadi was in so much agony she could not move. Her back was burned horribly with permanent words from the branding irons, each a hateful slur in the elfish script. Her right hand had been broken, each finger snapped individually. Blood poured from the gashes caused by the silver-tipped whip, which covered every inch of her body.

She refused to break, greeting each torturer with a manic grin and nothing but sheer determination; she would not bow to these elves; these men who took her beloved away from her. It would dishonor both the memory of Farkas and her Status as Harbinger of the fearless Companions if she allowed herself to make one cry of pain.

So instead of crying out as they crushed her left hand, instead of screaming as they broke another rib, she sang through the gag on her mouth.

_"There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red," _

They slapped her face again, and ripped out a back molar.

"_Who came riding to Whiterun from Old Rorikstead,"_

They hit her with brass knuckles, and she felt blood ooze from her mouth.

"_And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade as he talked about battles and gold he had made," _

Again with the whip; she nearly laughed at their lack of originality.

"_But then he went quiet did Ragnar the Red, when he met the Shield-maiden Matilda who said,"_

_ "Oh you talk and you Lie and you drink all our mead, now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!"_

She coughed up blood as they hit her chest again, but she did not cry out.

"_Then came the clashing and slashing of steel, as the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal."_

They broke her right arm, and another slammed the hilt of his great sword into her left leg, crunching bone with a sickening snap.

"_And the braggart named Ragnar was Boastful no more,"_

Her head hit the back of her cell hard enough to cause her vision to blur and black out.

"_When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!" _

She passed out as soon as she slurred out the last verse. She was a mess; not one part of her was not covered in grime or dried blood. It had been a few weeks since her capture, and Farkas's presumed death, yet she would not break.

The head interrogator scowled. His work was always so complicated; could they not just kill her as an example? She would not break, that much was clear. He tried convincing the head warden to do so.

"If we execute her publicly in Solitude, would that not have the same effect as breaking her? Perhaps even greater? She is the Dragon Born, and if she dies, would the hope of the Nords' petty rebellions be crushed along with the will of the peoples'?"

"Perhaps, but her death would also make her a martyr. We cannot have a martyr; she would become the hero of the people, a beloved icon to cherish. Perhaps even another Talos, and that we cannot have, under any circumstances. No, we must turn her by any means necessary. Execution is our last resort," The warden said, not looking up from the book he was reading. The head interrogator sighed, taking the answer as his dismissal.

If only the warden would listen to him; they'd be through with this politically trapping move. They must now proceed with caution; one misstep, and the entire operation would collapse about them. If the populace was angered by the capture and detainment of their hero, they would turn against the Dominion; if the Stormcloaks caught wind of the plot, it wouldn't take long for that outcome to come to light.

The interrogator shuddered to think of the consequences; would it not be better to simply handle the situation as quickly as possible? Silence all further resistance with a simple execution, instead of using pain to force an answer from an unwilling, resilient prisoner?

He sighed again, throwing his hands up in defeat; It was not his place to decide the fate of the prisoner. He turned toward his quarters and left the torture up to an underling, retireing for the night.

Skadi's muffled, eerie verses carried throughout the dungeon that night, neither ceasing in their quantity, nor volume, despite the amount of pain she was in.

She would not break, nor would she yield; she was Skadi the Fearless, and the fate of her sisters and brothers rested on her resilience.

All the while, snow fell about the fort silently, as if trying to muffle the tortured sounds of the imprisoned locked away below.

Something was coming; everyone could feel it.

"Vilkas, you and your shield-siblings have my permission to raid the Thalmor base," Jarl Balgruff the Greater said, gazing at the man before him.

Vilkas was stunned; he had come to Dragonsreach expecting reproach for his actions. Lydia stood beside him equally as stunned. They were speechless, confused, and relieved all at the same time.

"Perhaps, judging by the looks on your faces, you are wondering why I am allowing this, when I have thus far remained neutral in the war, leaning to the side of the Imperials," Balgruff said, amused, "In all honesty, I was going to ban you from getting involved. However, I was reminded by my Housecarl of the great services Skadi Thrymdottir has performed for the city. It is my duty as Jarl to not only lead my people, but to protect them. She has my protection, just as she has sworn hers to me as Thane of Whiterun. Thus I grant you and the Companions permission to rescue her from the Thalmor. However, proceed with caution; it is best you use disguise. Keep Whiterun's name out of this as much as possible; we still wish to remain neutral," he finished, and the two nodded.

"Thank you greatly, My Lord. We will proceed with silence," Vilkas said, kneeling. He exited with Lydia, both too amazed to speak.

In the three days since the Companions last Convened, They had gathered a considerable force to raid the Thalmor stronghold. Ralof had eagerly agreed to ask Ulfric Stormcloak for aid, feeling that he owed Skadi his life for helping him break out of Helgen. The Jarl of Windhelm agreed to help rescue the Harbinger, in hopes it may repair any animosity between them. Skadi did not like Ulfric Stormcloak for the treatment of the non-nord population of Windhelm under his rule. The extreme poverty the non- nords lived in revolted her, and stirred her hatred of him up even more.

The fact that it would be a raid on a Thalmor base added to Ulfric's willingness to lend aid.

The promise of riches and a chance to add "Stealing from the Thalmor" to a list of accomplishments drew in support from the Thieves' Guild, even Byrnjolf himself volunteering to help the raid.

On top of the promise of both the Stormcloak Army and the Thieves' Guild, they had received many volunteers willing to brave death or imprisonment in order to save the person who had helped them out of trouble; Vilkas felt bad when he was forced to turn down the aid of an elderly Priest of Mara from Dawnstar, who Skadi had helped when he needed aid ridding the town of nightmares.

In all, the Companions now had a considerable force mustered, and set to meet in Breezehome later that night. Farkas, who wanted nothing more than to join this quest, had reluctantly revealed the location of the giant's camp Skadi had been taken from. He once more begged his brother to allow him to follow.

"Farkas, you're still recovering; I can't let you come. You could reopen the wounds, or worse die. How do you think Skadi would feel then? She would berate you for your recklessness," Vilkas said, as Tilma gently nudged Farkas back down against the bed.

"Please Vilkas! I need to- I need to come," Farkas begged, eyes full of pain.

"I'm sorry… drink your medicine, Farkas, and then maybe you'll be well enough to follow," Vilkas said, guiltily handing his twin the medicine, knowing Tilma had slipped a sleeping draught into the mixture. Farkas took the medicine without complaint, looking utterly betrayed as his eyes began to droop.

"Sorry brother, rest and you'll see her soon," Vilkas murmured, as Farkas's vision faded to black.

He walked towards the meeting place, praying Skadi would be found alive, fearing what would happen should she prove otherwise.

The group of warriors road out at dawn the next morning, a fearful Whiterun watching them leave.

Vilkas felt a tug on his cloak, the strange Stormcloak armor making him feel defenseless and weak. He looked down to spy a little girl, the daughter of the owner of the fruit stand in the market, Mila Valentia, giving him a pleading glance.

"Bring back our Thane, please. If she dies, who else will play tag with us?" She begged, fearfully. Vilkas clapped a hand on her shoulder and nodded.

"We'll do our best, child, or die trying!" he swore. She smiled at him and returned to her mother. Vilkas turned toward the grate, gritting his teeth behind the mask.

He just hoped they wouldn't be too late.

_The stage was set for a bloodbath,_

_ Which side would win, only the Nine would know,_

_ Be it the Elves or the companions,_

_ Would be revealed when crimson dyed the snow._

_The Dominion Prison, three days later…._

The warden grinned to himself, as he loaded their prized prisoner into a carriage, and then awaited the coming battle. He expected them to come with arrow and steel, to rescue their Thane, and he had planned this attack perfectly. They would destroy the Stormcloaks in one fell swoop, and with the attack as evidence of her treason, have just reason to execute the Dragon Born, thus ridding themselves of a risky political prisoner.

The woman could hardly fight back; the interrogators did their job well, even if she did not break, did not yield to them, and refused to serve their wishes. She still spat, still threw out insults with a vigor, and still, vehemently, refused to cry out in pain. The Warden was happy to be rid of the resilient she-devil; she was giving pointless hope to the other prisoners, and encouraging rebellion.

A nearby guard slammed his hand into her head, forcing the woman into the carriage, before the door was slammed shut.

Good riddance; now onto the pressing matter of the army headed toward the prison.

The warden didn't expect the warning horns to blast at that second!

He turned to his guards and legions, giving out quick commands. It was time for battle.

_ It was much quicker than either army expected, _Delphine thought to herself, kicking a Thalmor corpse out of her way. Even if the Dragon Born had not killed Paarthunaax like she had wanted, didn't mean they wouldn't help the Dragon Born when she needed it. The Thalmor were a shared enemy afterall!

Regardless, this battle was much too short for Delphine's tastes. Something wasn't right. Ulfric Stormcloak seemed to agree, ordering extra guards to watch the surroundings, and having one of the mages check for traps along the hall. What was going on?

Vilkas, the pup from the Companions, discovered it in the innermost cell of the prison. The newly freed prisoners around it had claimed a woman had been brought in gagged, and she left here severely tortured, but unbroken. They even said she had been singing ballads through the gag, to taunt her tormenters. Ria smirked.

"That's our Harbinger," she muttered, voice oozing with pride.

That pride vanished moments later upon searching the cell. Blood was splattered across the floor, all over the room, much of it fresh. There was so much that even Aela found herself leaving the room to gag in private. They found Skadi's gear in a box outside the door, untouched for days, right down to the blood-stained Amulet of Mara. The other gear looted from the camp, such as Farkas's sword and armor, lay in the box beside it.

"She's not here," The Jarl of Windhelm muttered, "This was a trap."

"Look, there's a note," Vilkas said, pointing to the opposite end of the cell. Sure enough, soaked in blood and pinned to the wall by a dagger, was a piece of paper.

It read, in fine, cursive print,

_To Ulfric Stormcloak and others,_

_ Your Dragon Born awaits execution in Solitude. Seek her there if you see fit, we'll be waiting. You have two choices; surrender and be tried for your crimes against us and the empire, or watch the "Dragon of the North" enter Sovrngard prematurely._

_ Aldmari Dominion._

Vilkas swore violently, and Ulfric Stormcloak scowled.

"They thought she was with me? She would never join me, not if her life depended on it!" The jarl snarled.

"They used her to get to you, thinking you would rush to the aid of the Peoples' hero. Which you did, but it seems they've other plans. How could they execute the dragon born? She is innocent!" Ralof stated, grimly.

"They plan to execute someone, and that someone is Ulfric Stormcloak," Delphine said, with finality. The others turned to her, waiting an explaination, "They plan to use the dragon born's execution as a lure for the great Stormcloak leader, drawing him in and then ensnaring him, with a public execution all in one hit. Solitude will be expecting him to come, mark me."

"Then he simply doesn't come," Aela said, a wicked smile crossing her features. It looked so out of place on her normally stone-like features, even Vilkas looked shocked.

"What do you mean, Shield- Sister?" Torvas asked, curiously.

"I mean, we use disguise," Aela said, and Brynjolf grinned manically, his eyes lighting up at the mischief.

"What a grand plan, lass," He stated, a plan forming in his mind, "but what kind of disguises shall we wear?"

"Simple," Aela said, gesturing around at abandoned Imperial Uniforms, "We'll go as a garrison, awaiting the death of a traitor."

"Good plan, but won't it seem odd? A garrison of soldiers just showing up at random in solitude?" Vilkas said, deep in thought.

"Then how about a garrison of Imperials in Solitude goes 'missing'?" a kajheet, a member of the Theives' Guild soldiers, said, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

"Brilliant! We just need to get there within the time limit," Ulfric Stormcloak said, reading the date, "a week from tomorrow… next Friddas it seems."

"Then we split up and reconvene in Solitude, to make it seem less suspicious. In the meantime, gather normal clothes, and conceal your weapons; we'll meet again in solitude within a week- mind you, keep in character. Trust the Thieves' Guild to have, "dispatched" the guard," Brynjolf said, grinning in anticipation.

"Just don't kill them," Lydia muttered, praying the thief heeded her words.

"We'll see Lass, it's them or the Dragon Born," said Thief grinned, clapping the housecarl on the back hard enough to cause her to stumble.

The group parted ways, each with their orders.

It was to be a long week…

Three days later, Vilkas arrived back in Whiterun with the others, defeated, angry, and sore. They trudged back to Jorrvaskr, trying to ignore the whispers of the citizens.

From the many posters plastered on every stall, house, and shop in the Market, the news of the Dragon Born's Upcoming execution had reached the city.

The group, deep in thought about the upcoming rescue mission, entered their mead hall distracted, not really paying attention to any who spoke to them.

Until Tilma, panting raggedly, halted them in their tracks.

"Vilkas!" She shouted, shrilly, marching straight up to the companion with rage; even though she hardly came to his shoulders in height, he still had to repress a tremble of fear at the sound of her furious voice.

"Yes Tilma?" He asked, head bowed like a child. There was no force in the world that could match the fury of the old woman; even Alduin would find himself trembling in fear.

"You'd better have a damn good explaination for these posters, young man," Tilma snarled, waving the execution poster before his face.

"The Base was a trap; we won, but we missed them. Skadi's been taken to Solitude, Tilma," Vilkas said, ashamed of himself for his failure, "We've a plan to save her, but it's risky."

"You'd better damn well have a plan, pup! Your brother ran off as soon as he found the flyer! He's probably half-way to Solitude by now!" Tilma said, furious.

"What?! You let him run off wounded?!" Aela growled, stepping forward menacingly.

"Of course not! The reckless idiot ran off in the middle of the night when the Jarl was speaking in the Market place! Eorland and I were down listening to his speech about the current situation, and we thought he was asleep! He's been missing for two days- although, the bodies of some Thalmor agents were found stripped and mutilated by the side of the road last night," Tilma said, her voice still holding more cold fury than an Ice Atronach could ever hope to possess.

"Guess we will have to leave early then," Lydia muttered, turning to the doors, "I'll book a carriage, if someone will go gather supplies."

"That won't be necessary, Lydia," Came a deep voice from behind them. The group turned to find Irilith, the Housecarl of the Jarl, standing in the shadows.

"Irilith! How long have you been there?!" Lydia exclaimed.

"The entire time. Tilma's rage is an impressive distraction," she said, turning her attention to Varkas, "Your supplies and a carriage are waiting at the stables. The Jarl asks that you rescue his Thane with all haste, and has requested that I offer payment for her quick and safe return. Breezehome is currently locked off, and guarded by a small group of Thalmor agents, who were placed there to guard the home in case any of the men who attacked their base three days ago should return, and to search the Dragon Born's home for further clues to prove her guilty of treason. Jarl Balgruff told them you and your men were out hunting a Coven of Witches in near Dawnstar, and the elderly Priest of Mara located there has backed his story. My lord also suggests you leave tonight, after every light in Whiterun has gone out. Jarl Balgruff has also said he is working on… disposing the Thalmor agents. Do not go to Breezehome, under any circumstances."

With that, she turned and left the hall, leaving the group in contemplation.

"By the Nine! They'll find her Daedric weapons!" Lydia cursed, beginning to panic.

"That's not necessarily going to count as incriminating evidence," Ria said, "Plenty of Dunmer and others worship Meridia and Azura, and face no consequences."

"Yes, but the Mask of Clavicus Vile, _and _Wabbajack?! She'll be accused of villainy!" Lydia despaired, "And they'll confiscate her funds as well! She has countless gems of value and priceless artifacts she's found on her travels! They'll sell them off, the bastards!"

"Not important at the moment, Lydia," Aela said, "What's more important is getting out of Whiterun without being accused of treason. Perhaps if we went through the Underforge… and then circled around to the front…"

"That might work, but it'd be a lot easier if we simply got a message to the carriage to meet us around back," Torvar said, glumly taking a swig of mead.

"I'll alert the carriage then, you lot get your gear together and be ready," Tilma said, straightening her dress, and opening the door, "That lovesick pup, Farkas hasn't got his wits about him at the moment, and is rushing blindly to Solitude to save his love. Someone's going to be hurt if he makes it there without reopening his wounds."

"We'll find and save them both, Tilma, don't worry," Vilkas said, determination in his eyes.

The companions snuck out of Whiterun that day, one by one. Isolda, and one of the Priestesses in the temple, had provided them with supplies for their journey.

As each companion settled into the carriage, they all thought the same thing,

_If this fails, then we will all be responsible for the death of the Dragon Born."_

_Middas Night._

He had been scouting the area since Sundas, face clean of warpaint, and a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders, hood drawn. He hoped it would disguise his features from any who would recognize him.

Farkas took up his usual spot, hidden in the shadows of the building across from the Executioner's scaffold, and began to watch again.

He had rented a small room in The Winking Skeever, in Solitude, praying to the Gods the Thalmor had at least locked her up in a cell, out of the harsh weather suddenly plaguing the city.

His prayers were unanswered; Skadi had been locked in a stockade nearby the Headsman's block at the gates of the city. The People of Solitude passed by her every day, some offering food, others expressing sorrow for their hero, locked in chains. Some threw rotten vegetables, rocks, anything that would humiliate the heroine, who remained locked up for their enjoyment. The skies poured down rain, as if Kynareth herself was crying.

Skadi herself, even locked up in the stockade, still gagged, and clearly in vast amounts of pain, was still proud. She glared at her Thalmor Guards ferociously, whenever they met her eyes, and they in turn trembled in fear. She refused to acknowledge how much agony she was in, even if most of her weight was thrust upon her broken leg, and the yellow and purple swelling of her broken arm had not eased up in the slightest. Farkas growled darkly every time the Thalmor guards walked up to her, deciding her to be too ferocious and defiant, and beat her to bits. He almost transformed, only barely holding himself back.

He wondered how the wolf inside Skadi was reacting to all the torment. She was clearly severly wounded, and even if she was impervious to disease, her body must be exhausted and her immunity low. She didn't let her wounds affect her, simply knealt proudly in her binds, refusing to be defeated, even by the rain.

It was almost midnight now; the period when the guards would change. That gave him Farkas fifteen minutes to get to Skadi, and to at least get some food into her, before he would be forced to retreat. He had only waited this long to approach the Stocks to gain information on when the guards changed shifts.

Midnight struck, and the bells in the temple began to toll. When the guards were clear of the Stockades, Farkas crept over, hiding from the lantern light in the shadows of the buildings around the scaffold. Skadi was lightly dozing; her face screwed up in an expression of pain in the near- darkness that surrounded her. A wet wind whistled through the streets, causing her to shiver in her wet, cold clothes.

_At least the rain washed the scent of her blood away,_ Farkas thought, grimacing as he spotted the scars scattered across her exposed limbs. The ragged clothes she wore were torn and bloodstained; clinging to her nearly broken body by threads. Her hair, usually soft, coiled back into her twin buns, hung lank and wet in her face. She was shivering in the cold; her fingers nearly blue with it, and her lips were tinged azure. Some of the worse wounds were still raw and unhealed; exposed to the elements they had worsened, to the point her wolf blood must be finding it difficult to repel the illnesses threatening to overtake her body.

Even as morbidly wounded as she was, Farkas still found Skadi beautiful. He still wanted nothing more than to kiss her, hold her, and be hers. He wanted to be there for her, whether she needed him or not, wanted her to rely on him. Hell, he would settle for staying at home when she was adventuring, just as long as he was hers, and she was his.

She was so strong; she lasted this long after what was clearly intense torture. Farkas hated himself for being unable to save her. He let out a soft whine, as he gently ran a hand through her grimy hair, unknotting the gag as he did.

She snapped awake, trying to bite at his hand in her defense. He stepped back and knelt down to meet her eyes. She snarled at him, not recognizing his face, but slowly the ferocity faded into shock, as his scent registered in his mind.

"F-Farkas?" She asked, weakly,her eyes widening in awe, "I thought… I thought they killed you!"

Farkas smiled and stroked her face gently, "Can't kill me that easy. I've got the strength of Ysgramor, remember?"

Skadi smiled at him, tears of relief streaming through the dried blood and dirt on her face. She couldn't believe it; he was alive! After being wounded so horribly, he was alive and well enough to travel to her. She let herself break down in front of him, all the weariness, exhaustion, and pain of the past weeks bubbling to the surface as she cried in relief; he was alive, and none of her pain mattered.

Farkas couldn't stop himself; he took one look at the relief mingled with the pain and exhaustion written on his Harbinger's bloody, torn up face, and couldn't stop the desire welling up in his stomach. He gently leaned in towards the wounded Harbinger, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her on the lips. He wished he could have saved her sooner; that he could save her now. It was all his fault she had been taken and tortured so severely she couldn't stand without using the stockade as support. He wished he could whisk her away from the stockade, and bear her safely home to Jorrvaskr, or to a hunting shack in the Rift, where they'd be safe. He wanted to raise a family with her, have some pups of his own, and live a simple life. Just escaping Solitude would be enough. As long as he could get her safely away, where he could help her heal.

Skadi's eyes widened as Farkas kissed her. Finally, after months of trying, he had kissed her, finally admitted his feelings. She flushed under the grime on her face. The tears ran faster, falling gently onto Farkas's outstretched hand. Skadi was so happy; She had finally succeeded in flirting.

Only, how would they begin to forge a life together, when hers was scheduled to end in two days? Her heart plummeted again.

"Don't cry, Skadi," Farkas whispered, smoothing her dirty hair out of her face, "I'm just… I'm sorry it took me this long to admit it."

He sounded so remorseful that Skadi almost began to cry again.

"It wasn't your fault I'm in this predicament, Farkas," She whispered back, smiling sadly, "Whatever happens, happens, and is the fault of the Thalmor. Niether of us could control the situation."

"I could have fought harder," Farkas protested, his ice-blue eyes watery, "I could have payed attention during the fight with the giant, instead of getting distracted like a little kid. I could have snuck off sooner… I could have admitted my feelings sooner, instead of acting like the idiot I am. I could have done something! Anything! But I didn't, and now you're going to die, and there's nothing I can do to stop it, except die beside you."

He wiped her tears away with a gentle swipe of his thumb. She leaned into his hand, ignoring the pain in her limbs.

"It wasn't just your fault, Farkas," she muttered, exhaustion hitting her quickly, "It was both of ours. I should have just told you my feelings, not subtly imply them… It's too late for that now-

She was cut off by the sound of returning footsteps; her guards had changed shifts. Skadi's face went from sorrow to a brief flash of rage, and then to worry. She glanced at Farkas, wishing she could finish what she was trying to say.

"You need to get out of here, Farkas; if they see you up here, they'll hurt you! Hurry!" She pleaded, taking a sharp breath as she leaned on the broken leg.

"I'll come back tomorrow night, I promise…. Just… just don't let them break you, okay?" Farkas said, a pleading tone edging the vow.

"If I haven't broken after what they've done to me thus far, it's unlikely I'll break any time soon," Skadi sighed. Farkas could feel the exhaustion and her desire to simply end all the pain roll off her in waves. He leaned forward and kissed her gently once more, before disappearing off the scaffold more quickly and silently than his size would lead many to believe.

Two, new guards too up their positions shortly after, sneering at Skadi as they did, each giving her broken ribs a good smack with the hilt of their blades.

All Skadi could feel was the warmth of Farkas's lips on hers, and the tingle of his hands gently stroking her face. It would be enough to get her through one more agonizing night.

As the bitterly cold winds of Skyrim descended once more onto Solitude, two hearts lay, dreaming of what could have been, in another life, in another age. Mara gazed sadly down upon them, their love fulfilled, only at the last few hours of one heart's life.

Only at the end do mortals see what should have been fixed when they had the chance.

Svari gazed sadly at the kind lady up on the scaffold. She had been her friend ever since her uncle, Roggvir was executed.

People would walk up and ask about her uncle, ask about her parents, and offer their condolences after he died. She still didn't understand why he was executed. He was only guarding the gate! Her mother refused to go to the temples after he died, and her father tried his best to help her understand, but nothing helped; Uncle Roggvir was dead, and not much else mattered. Her mother wouldn't even talk to her beyond being spoken to directly, or telling her to do her chores. Eventually, Svari just stopped talking to people all together, hoping they'd just go away and leave her alone about Roggvir.

But the lady… Skadi, she was different. She saw her walking alone, away from Kayde and the others, and started talking to her.

She asked why SVari wouldn't speak, and Svari, for some reason, told her. To cheer the child up, the Dragon Born told her about the attack of Helgen, with all the gory bits cut out. And when her story was finished, she gave her a coin! And didn't expect to be paid back!

From then on, she would talk to all the kids of Solitude, telling them tales of her adventures, and bringing them souvenirs from her travels- small trinkets like necklaces, gears from Dwemer ruins, and once even a Glass Dagger! She gave her, Kayde, and Minette coins to go buy candy.

She played games with them, and seemed to actually listen to their stories, even let her and Minette braid flowers into her hair.

Svari didn't want her to die too! Ulfric Stormcloak had already caused the death of her Uncle; if he didn't show up, and if the Dragon Born, the _nicest adult in the entire world_, was executed because of him, then she would stop talking to everyone.

Svari flinched again, as another drunk from the Winking Skeever threw a tankard at the haggard and torn Skadi, narrowly missing her face, and instead hitting her broken hand. Skadi flinched this time, glaring at the man. If her mouth was free of the gag, she'd have spat on him.

Kayde came up behind her and gripped her hand sadly.

"Hey, Svari? It will be okay. They can't kill her, she's too strong to kill!" he said, trying to comfort her.

"That's what they said 'bout a lot of warriors, and they all got beaten by the Thamor in the Great War. That's what Noster Eagle-eye said," Svari replied glumly, "If only Ulfric Stormcloak would just die! This is all because of him! This whole, stupid, war!"

"Well… She can… Her friends won't let her die! She's a Companion, and they've got her back, and she has theirs! That's what Pa says," Kayde continued, as another rotten cabbage was thrown at Skadi's face.

"I hope you're right, Kayde; I don't want them to kill Skadi! She's the only nice adult! Like a big sister! She can't go to Sovrngard, like Uncle Roggvir!" Svari said, her lower lip trembling, "And even if she's a Companion, even they wouldn't openly defy the Dominion! They're too strong."

"They may be strong, lass, but they lack support," Came a gruff voice from behind the children. They wheeled around to find a man, dressed in farmer's clothes, and a hooded cloak that just shrouded his eyes enough to mask his identity.

"Ma says I'm not s'posed to talk to strangers," Svari muttered, backing up a few steps.

"Relax child, I won't harm you," The man said, "I'm merely curious why you're so convinced the Dragon Born is going to die tomorrow. Don't you have any faith she has supporters in places she doesn't expect?"

"You mean it?! Someone's gonna save her?!" Both children whispered, excitedly.

"Aye, but hush! Keep it to yourself! If this gets out, the Thalmor will make it near impossible to get to her."

Both children nodded, seriously; they understood secrets, and would gladly take this to the grave if it meant their hero would be okay.

"Out of Curiosity lass, why such hatred toward Ulfric Stormcloak?" The man asked, taking another swig of his drink.

"If he didn't come kill the king, then my Uncle would be alive! If he didn't have to run through the front gates of the city, then Roggvir wouldn't have been killed for opening them! He's a bad man, who caused a war, and made everyone in Skyrim hate each other. So I hate him," Svari said, angrily.

"She's still mad because of it, Sorry," Kayde apologized, shuffling his feet nervously.

"If he'd just turn himself in, then Skadi'd be okay. They'd let her go, and someone would take her to the healer's rooms and they'd make sure she wouldn't die," Svari sniffed, tears streaming down her face, "I… I wish Ulfric Stormcloak would just die!" She said, running off into the crowd, sobbing.

"Svari- Svari, wait!" Kayde shouted, starting to run off. He paused to look back at the stranger, who had gone sullen and quiet since Svari began to speak. The stranger waved him off, telling him to go find his friend. Kayde nodded and ran after Svari, not pausing to look back.

Staring blankly into his mead, Ulfric Stormcloak pondered what the child, Svari, had said. What effect had his war had on the children of Skyrim, Nord, Breton, Imperial, Elf, orc, Kajheet, and Argonian?

Dumping the remainder of his mead into a nearby potted plant, The Jarl sighed, nausea rising in his stomach.

_What poor choices I've made, ignoring the people of Skyrim, in order to wage war on the Thalmor._ He thought.

(Author's note: this portion was seriously all to demonstrate how much I friggin love the children of Skyrim- the legit children; I'd adopt them all, and hug them, and make them feel loved and special. And I'd be a good mother too! Unfortunately, I can't. can't hug all the children.)

(I also wrote this portion because I fucking hate Ulfric Stormcloak and his racist ways. He can eat Skadi's blades for all I care; I detest the Thalmor, and if I were Ulfric Stormcloak, I'd have waged open war against them, not the Imperials. Kick the bastards out of Skyrim, end their even bigger racist agenda, and also treat the non-nords of Windhelm like actual, fucking people, not animals to be kept in a fucking slum. I support fighting to free Skyrim from Religious prejudice, Thalmor rule, and make it free for everyone, not just Nords.

So yeah, If given the option, I'd kill Ulfric Stormcloak and usurp his throne and army. Just so I can accomplish that, without mass genocide. I actually like elves; as long as they treat me like a fucking human, I'll give them my respect too.)

Svari ran blindly through the crowd, until she slammed into a rather tall Nord, clad in Imperial Armor, falling over upon impact. She scrubbed her hands over her eyes, to erase the tear tracks.

"Where are you going in such a hurry, lass?" The nord asked in a deep voice, kneeling down to help her up, "And why the tears? You're not hurt, right?"

"I'm.. I'm going… nowhere," Svari sighed, brushing off her dress, "And I'm not crying"

"An awful big lie, from an awfully small girl," The man snarked, waiting her response.

"I'm just sad… I don't want Skadi to die like Uncle Roggvir," Svari sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, "He didn't do anything but open a gate, and the person who exited just killed the king. And Now the nicest person in Skyrim is gonna die, because the stupid Thalmor think she's bad. Skadi can't be bad! She's kind! And she plays with us, and tells us stories! Why does she have to die?"

The guard looked at her sadly, patting her back.

"You know, she doesn't have to die," He whispered. Svari looked into his eyes, confused. The man shook his head and smiled, "You want to help her, right?"

"Yeah! I want to save her, because she didn't do anything wrong!" Svari replied, in an excited whisper.

"What if I Told you I was here to help her too?" The man continued, quietly.

"I'd keep it a secret, like the guy in the cloak told me too," Svari responded.

"Good, good; now, you want to help Skadi, right? Here's what I need you to do for me," the man said, leaning in to whisper his plan into her ear. The girl grinned.

"Can I get Kayde and Minette to help me too?" She whispered, eyes alight in mischief.

"As many people as you need," The man grinned, his red hair flashing in the sun. Svari ran off into the crowd, locating her friends quickly.

"Come on! A weird old man said we can help Skadi!" she whispered to them, dragging them into a position where the Guards could see them, yet they were still hidden, like the man said. She whispered the plan to her friends.

After a few moments of chatting, a hooded man, the same height as before, slipped by them, gently tapping Svari on the shoulder. Svari got the message and began to play.

"SOMEONE HELP!" She cried, in a very convincing manner, "THAT MAN IS A STORMCLOAK!" she cried, pointing at a random man, an actual Imperial Soldier by the looks of it, who immediately jumped in alarm.

"Someone help! He's a friend of Ulfric!" Kayde cried alongside her.

"He's stolen from the Winking Skeever!" Cried Minette, instantly drawing the attention of every honorable patron of the beloved inn. The accusations caused a brawl that drew the two Thalmor guards into the fray. The cloaked man slipped up onto the platform, and knealt beside the stockade.

Svari watched as he coaxed her wounded heroine to take a sip from a flask at his hip, and as he held up a few, small pieces of bread to Skadi's mouth, which she ate reluctantly, her face screwed up in pain.

Within moments the brawl had ended, and the cloaked man had slipped back into the crowd, unseen. The Thalmor guards resumed their posts, as if nothing had happened.

The three children crept out of the market, to a hiding spot behind a building. The man in the cloak, who was the Imperial Soldier in disguise, was waiting.

"Well done, Lass! Excellent work!" He praised, clapping his hands. Svari beamed.

"When are you going to save Skadi?" She asked, her eyes wide in hope. The man paused, and knelt down to their level.

"You three are pretty wise children, aren't ye?" He whispered, smiling, "Aye, we've a plan, but it's complicated. I need you three to promise me you'll stay away from the execution tomorrow, got it? Skadi would be ruined if any of you were injured during her rescue," He said, quite seriously.

"Of course we'll stay away, but we need to know if you'll actually succeed," Kayde said, staring the man in the eye.

"We must succeed; failure is not an option," the man said, "promise me you'll stay inside?"

The three nodded, and he smiled.

"excellent. Now remember kiddies, you never saw me, got it?" he said, standing up again.

"yessir!" the children replied, scurrying away. Brynjolf smirked, _they's so cute a this age, _ he thought, disappearing into the shadows.

The Thalmor mocked Skadi mercilessly. They laughed at her pain, laughed at her determination not to break, and mocked her will to live.

"Where are your beloved Companions now? It seems your shield- siblings have abandoned you in your hour of need," They jeered, hanging just out of her reach.

Skadi had so many responses to their taunts, but was unable to respond through the gag. She would have fought them all for insulting her guild, would have ripped them apart- defended her Shield-sibling's honor, had she been free. She didn't want to die, a cloth bag over her head, preventing her from meeting the eyes of her executioner.

Farkas


End file.
